Lucky
by quietresilience09
Summary: Sam & Quinn: 10 years later
1. Stuck

Lately, Quinn feels stuck and she can't pinpoint the reason.

She loves her job. She's still the new girl at the PR firm downtown, but she's been told, she's got potential for big things. And she wants those promotions; wants that corner office on the forty-second floor.

Early on, she found a real love for Chicago. It's a city full of possibility and new discoveries, things she missed out on in Ohio.

Some nights, after a long day of juggling clients and supervisors, she wanders the lamp-lit streets. She watches people as they return home from work: couples greeting each other on doorsteps; friends laughing through pub windows;

children racing through parks for their parents.

And maybe that's the problem. Lately, she's doing more watching than actual doing.

She has friends in town; people she's collected from work and school, but still, she feels this nagging sensation like something's missing. Like her collective momentum forward from Lima has slowly tapered off.

She realizes this is no new feeling. It's a sensation that's ebbed and flowed inside her for years.

It's half the reason she slept with Puck, half the reason she could never really say no to Finn, half the reason she bounced from guy to guy in college.

What irritates her now is that she's not the same girl. All her past mistakes helped her get to this point; pushed her out of Lima, forced her to verbalize and prioritize dreams and goals she barely recognized before.

And still, that feeling of being stuck, it's there, in the back of her head, reminding her of a scared girl she once knew.

* * *

><p>They run into each other at a bar. It's clichéd and Quinn instantly feels sixteen again, like none of the social graces she's learned in the last ten years actually embedded in her vocabulary.<p>

He looks better than she remembers; which is startling, since Quinn told herself she gave the memory too much thought, painted him and their short lived romance in too much nostalgia.

He smiles at her, real and genuine, and she feels off balance.

She heard he lived nearby. They even exchanged messages, but now, seeing him in person, in this life she created with her own two hands; it feels simultaneously like coming home and entering an alternate reality.

He tells her of the church he attends. He heads the youth ministry; sings and plays at the Sunday service. He manages a local health food store, and Quinn finds herself grinning at the perfection in the ways his new life fits him.

Quinn's in the middle of telling him of her adventures abroad, when the bartender hollers for the last call. She feels pushed off balance again. Time passed quicker than she realized, and she likes the corner of the bar they carved out for

themselves.

Sam hugs her; tells her he hopes to see her tomorrow at church.

Half-way home, she realizes she's smiling a little more brightly than usual.


	2. Fool

He lowers his voice, giving his best Matthew McConaughey impression and grinning widely despite the lack of the laughter. Quinn just shakes her head, rolling her eyes despite the smile on her face.

He places a hand on her back, asks if she wants another drink. She nods, tilting her head to watch him walk back to the bar.

"How long's this one gonna last?"

Her head spins back to her co-workers. They're gathered around a small cocktail table, set perfectly with decorations and appetizers. "What do you mean?"

"You're not really serious about this guy, are you?" Quinn stands quiet, shocked, blinking at the people she worked hard to impress over the last three years. "Impressions? Grocery manager? You're better than that Fabray."

Before she can retort, Sam returns, a fresh drink in hand. She stares at him, frozen in place.

The tux he rented barely fits him. His wispy hair brushes into his eyes, making him the odd man out in a room of polished professionals. He gives her a smile, like he actually wants to be here, with her.

She never brings a date to a company function. She holds so tight to this job, these dreams, that nothing frightens her more than tilting it, even slightly.

But somehow, this year, she found herself telling Sam to save the date weeks in advance.

She leans forward, threading a hand through his hair and pulling him to her. In her heels, they are the same height, making the kiss effortless. She feels his surprise before his lips move under hers, his hand landing on her waist.

Opening her eyes, she sees his smile grow a little wider. Grabbing her clutch, she paints on a satisfied smirk, excusing herself from the table.

She spends the rest of the night introducing Sam to everyone she ever met in the company. Not surprisingly, he makes more than a few friends. Even her boss, an avid runner, saved the address of his store, impressed with his knowledge of organic farming.

By the end of the evening, she doesn't bother hiding her genuine smile. They walk out into the cold, Chicago air, his arm warm around her shoulders. She shudders, shifting closer to him. As he hails a cab on the busy city street, Sam presses his lips to her hair.

Opening the taxi door for her, he asks with a smile, "So, did I pass the test?"

She maneuvers under his arm, pecking his lips and answering honestly, "You didn't need to."


	3. True

He brings it up in the middle of dinner, so casually she almost misses the implications.

"I was talking to the pastor about maybe starting a girls group as part of our youth ministry."

Quinn took a bite of her chicken, nodding along, "Yea?"

"Yea. I thought maybe you'd want to head it up?"

Quinn stared at him for a moment before reminding herself to swallow. "Head it up?"

"Yea! You know, a lot of the girls are trying to navigate what it means to be a Christian in high school. I think they could use a good role model."

Quinn stared at him, momentarily questioning his motives. He stared right back, taking a sip of his water and wearing that same innocent expression she remembered from high school.

Back then, they rarely talked about her past, at least not directly. Which seems silly now, given the aftermath affected nearly every aspect of their relationship.

Quinn chose her words carefully, "I got pregnant at fifteen. I don't think I should be anybody's role model."

His eyes narrowed, "Yea, but you came back from it. You weren't a victim—"

"—I was really lost in high school, Sam. I did horrible things because I was too scared to do the right things."

She watched him take a breath, dropping his gaze, "You also did impossible things. You gave Beth a chance at a better life. You came back and still walked those halls like you owned them. You stood by my whole family when we had nothing—"

Quinn shook her head.

"What?"

"I slept with my boyfriend's best friend and then let Finn think the baby was his. I cheated on you; I was awful to Rachel; I quit glee club a hundred times because it wasn't cool." Sam reached out, grasping her hand, interrupting her rant. Letting out a shaky breath, she whispered, "How can you think I'm a role model for anyone?"

Sam shrugged a shoulder, "Because you always inspired me." She shook her head, shifting away from the table. He leaned forward, gripping her hand tighter, "We all make mistakes, Quinn. You never let yours define you. That's what I want these kids to see: that even if you make one or a dozen wrong choices, you can always come back."

"You really believe that."

"I believe in you."

* * *

><p>Quinn looked out at the girls scattered around the table. Twelve girls, all staring at her with a mixture of skepticism, hope, contempt, or eager attention.<p>

She smiled, ready to begin.

"When I was in high school, I was—" she dropped her gaze, searching for the right word, "—desperate. I was terrified of change. I was lonely, angry. Two things got me through, church and glee club." One of  
>the girls snickered, rolling her eyes. "You're right, it wasn't cool. But those people got me through some really tough times. That's what I want this to be for you: a place where you feel accepted. I don't have all the answers, but I'll be here for you and you'll have each other."<p> 


End file.
